Peschak’s path to becoming one of the world’s most renowned ocean photographers began with abalone — sea snails highly regarded as a seafood delicacy. In 1999, while pursuing his Ph.D in marine biology, Peschak became heavily involved in documenting the impact of illegal abalone poaching in South Africa. For months, he had observed the species’ behaviour, diet, and movement patterns, but he quickly learned that the science and statistics he had worked tirelessly to collect did not elicit the same reaction from the public as images did. So he made the shift to photojournalism. 

From being face-to-face with great white sharks (without a cage) to being swarmed by sweat bees in the middle of the Amazon rainforest, Peschak has gone to the ends of the Earth — literally and figuratively — to document the planet’s most vulnerable ecosystems and the people fighting to protect them.

Peschak has produced more than 20 feature stories for National Geographic, won 18 Wildlife Photographer of the Year awards and seven World Press Photo Awards. In 2024, he was selected to receive the National Geographic Society’s Eliza Scidmore Award for Outstanding Storytelling.

Beyond his editorial work, Peschak has authored multiple books that combine conservation science with visual storytelling, including Wild Seas, Secret Shores of Africa, Sharks & People, and Lost World. But after decades spent documenting the oceans, Peschak found himself seeking a new challenge, a multi-year project that would take him to one of the last wild places on the planet: the Amazon. 

On becoming a photographer 

Photography is basically a dopamine hit. You’ve got these goals in mind, and every time you make a frame, you feel really good. It’s addictive in a way. Even though I never wanted to be a photographer, once I decided to be one, I realized pretty quickly that it was my calling. I didn’t have to force myself to become one. It was pretty effortless once I figured out it was a better way to get engaged with the conservation side of things. Do I miss the science? I do, occasionally. I certainly miss the decade-long investment in a single topic. But I also don’t miss the decade-long investment in a single topic. It’s a double-edged sword.

On his favourite shark

I like white sharks because they challenge you — you can’t get away with anything with them. They’re on all the time. You look at them the wrong way, you make the wrong move… They’re very calculating, so it’s challenging, and they keep you on your toes. They’re also super interactive. So you can actually interact, which doesn’t happen often with other species. But it’s also exhausting. After an hour in the water with whites, you’re finished. Because you can’t switch off your brain, you’re constantly on. You’re basically playing chess with a great white because you’re thinking six moves ahead. Beyond an hour, it actually gets unsafe, because you start becoming complacent. 

The other sharks I like are tigers, because they’re just fun. They’re much more dopey — they can still take you out, but they’re much more forgiving. With tiger sharks, you can get away with things; you can’t get away with anything with a great white.

On why science isn’t always enough to move people

Science still underpins everything I do. But we used to be taught to communicate in a very niche and jargon-heavy way. We almost made it impossible for non-researchers to understand what we’re talking about. And I always found that the stories behind the science, the stories hidden in the data, are fascinating. They are extraordinary. Yet, we gatekeep and hide them with all this technical stuff. I love data; I find that way of reading, speaking, and communicating incredibly fascinating, but I quickly learned that not everybody cares as much as I do about statistical tests, bar charts, graphs or multivariate analysis.